


More War Than Peace

by prettyapathetic



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Broken Bones, Burns, Comedy, Concussions, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-31
Updated: 2011-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-19 23:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyapathetic/pseuds/prettyapathetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Camp Sick!Wilson 2010 Tic Tac Woe challenge. My prompts were bookcase, car door and cup of coffee.</p><p>Wilson attempts to have a relaxing day off with a book. It doesn't go well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More War Than Peace

Wilson grumbled and stood on his tip-toes trying to reach his hard-covered copy of the War and Peace which _someone_ (a someone who was taller and had a longer reach) had conveniently put almost out of his reach on the top shelf of his bookcase.

“Damn it House,” Wilson mumbled as his fingers grazed over the spine, trying to get a good grip on the book.

“I don’t know why you want to read that beast anyways. It’s boring. Do you really want to spend your day off reading about what a bunch of stuffy Russian aristocrats thought of Napoleon?” House had his usual casual tone, but he really did want to know. He had read it himself years before and for the life of him couldn’t figure out why it was considered one of the best novels of all time, much like he couldn’t figure out why _Citizen Kane _was considered the greatest movie ever made.__

“I told you House,” Wilson replied, a bit breathless with his attempts to grab the book. “I wanted to expand my...” Mid sentence, Wilson floundered as he got a grip on the book, but lost his balance. Wilson flailed his arms in an attempt to keep upright, pulling the book out to the edge of the shelf as he did so.

Wilson breathed a sigh of relief at avoiding a near painful (and embarrassing) fall when House called out his name sounding panicked. Wilson managed a confused look before he felt something heavy hit him square on the top of the head.

 _***_

“That’s it, I’m taking you to the hospital.” It was the first thing that House said that made any sense to Wilson as he looked up into the worried blue eyes of his best friend.

“What? No, I’m fine,” Wilson said gruffly, trying to sit up.

“Woah there cowboy,” House started, placing a firm hand on Wilson’s chest, keeping him in place. “Ten seconds ago you were swearing that your name’s Robert and I’m a British actor that you’re on a television show with, so no, you’re not fine. Who names their kid Hugh anyways?”

“I-I what?” Wilson stuttered, feeling like he’d just woken up from a feverish nightmare. What House was saying sounded vaguely familiar, but really didn’t make any sense either. “Y-yeah, okay, m-maybe I should go to the hospital.”

They made it to the hospital (though Wilson couldn’t remember it for the life of him) and he was able to get out of the car of his own volition (despite House’s slightly out of character protests to just wait a second). This became Wilson’s second mistake of the day when he tried to close the car door and discovered that his his thumb was in the way.

The second the door shut (and latched, Wilson realized in horror), the world came back to him in startling and painful clarity. He could hear House’s cursing, and the soft ‘fump’ of his can on the ashphalt as he rounded the car as quickly as he could. House opened the car door immediately as Wilson took in deep breaths in an attempt not to scream.

One good thing: suddenly his head didn’t hurt as much.

“Jesus Christ Wilson, what is up with you today?” House asked, obviously shaken but trying to come off annoyed as he literally _peeled_ Wilson’s thumb from the inside frame of the door.

Wilson blinked stupidly, unable to answer. The pain in his thumb was white hot and the ache in his head was a dull throb that was making it difficult for him to think. House mumbled something else that Wilson couldn’t quite make out. House just shook his head and lead him into the ER.

***

A few hours later found Wilson admitted for observations with a severe concussion and a cast on his hand. He felt groggy from the concussion and his thumb hurt like a bitch. What was supposed to be a nice, relaxing day at home had turned into a nightmare of pain.

Wilson sighed and relaxed slightly when House limped into his hospital room. He wasn’t sure why, but his friend’s mere presence helped tone down the pain. It also didn’t hurt that House came bearing what appeared to be a steaming hot cup of coffee.

House gave him a suspicious look and put the coffee cup down on the rolling table next to Wilson’s bed. “Now don’t get any bright ideas, that coffee’s for me,” House said, as he dragged the visitors chair over to the side of Wilson’s bed.

Wilson rolled his eyes at House’s comment, but as soon as the other man’s back was turned, Wilson made a grab for the coffee. Unfortunately, it was Wilson’s left hand that was injured and his right hand often failed him. This time was no exception as he dropped the cup, spilling the burning hot contents all over his lap.


End file.
